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Today is goingto be tough. I barely slept all night. Every creak and noise had me on edge. My father showed up out of nowhere.My father!
I haven’t seen him since he last intruded in my life when I was in college. Up until then, my last memory was when he walked out the door when I was nine years old, after beating the shit out of my mom and taking our last fifty bucks.
Mom came home that night from work and started making dinner. She was a waitress in a diner. How ironic that’s what I’m doing now. Like mother, like daughter. Her name was Lucille, and she was the only light in our very bleak world. No matter how poor we were, Mom always found a way to make us smile. Dad took great pleasure in trying to extinguish that light.
That night, my father came home drunk and pissed off because they wouldn’t serve him any more alcohol until he paid his tab. Mom tried to get him to sit down, have dinner, and sober up. He wouldn’t have any of it. He’d hurt Mom before, but not like this. He completely lost his mind. I jumped on his back and began to pound on him as hard as I could, and he tossed me aside like a flea off a dog. I fell to the floor with a thud. I think that was what freaked him out. He grabbed some clothes, stuffed them in a duffel bag, and left. After that, I didn’t see him again until the day he showed up at school, years later.
I hate him. I hate everything about him. I’m just grateful that neither Noah nor I resemble him in any way.
Mom recovered and was back to work in a week, and our next-door neighbors were a couple who kept us fed until Mom’s next paycheck, not that Mom liked charity, but she agreed and paid them back a little bit each week. She hated relying on others and vowed to be independent and to watch after Noah and me. I worked to save for college and got student loans, and it wasn’t until my second year that dear old dad showed up at my dorm.
He hadn’t changed one little bit. Dad still thinks the world owes him and he’s been dealt a shitty hand. He didn’t say hello or ask how I was doing. He didn’t even mention Noah or Mom. He got right to the point.
“Daddy’s little girl is going to college. I should have been given that chance. Instead, I got saddled with a wife and kids.”
I narrowed my eyes, clenching my fists by my sides, ready to punch him right in the mouth. Then he had the gall to ask for money.
“Daddy’s little girl figured her shit out all by herself, no thanks to you. It’s time for you to do that for yourself,” I launched back. I went to slam the door in his face, but he pushed through. I knew very well he was going to hurt me. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to take any more from me without a fight. I was lucky that my roommate came in when she did, and Dad ran before he got caught.
I warned Mom, and she and Noah stayed with a friend. According to the neighbor, Dad never did come knocking at their door. It wasn’t long after that that Mom fell ill. She was too sick to work, and financially, the illness was taking its toll on her. That was when I left school to take care of her and Noah as best I could.
I did a lousy job at both. Mom passed away, and even though the doctors said there was nothing I or anyone else could have done, I still felt guilty for not being able to give her more. The cancer ate away at her until there was nothing left. Noah had started hanging with a bad crowd, and I was so focused on Mom and her health that I didn’t see how serious it was until she was gone.
I tried to pull him out of the gang and was beaten up for my trouble by a group of them and told to stay out of it. I didn’t. I worked hard and was close to having enough money to take Noah away from there. We’d go anywhere and get a fresh start.
That was when Noah was caught by Satan’s Pride. We didn’t know it at the time, but it was the best thing that could have happened to him. Since then, he’s gone back to school, he does his homework and studies hard, and he has a bunch of good men as role models. I’ve been adopted by the group of women who call themselves the Lady Pride. It’s made up of the wives and girlfriends of the club. They’ve been wonderful. Willow has urged me to go back to my passion for designing clothes. I even made her wedding gown. It was gorgeous, and I was really proud of my work.
Since then, I’ve been getting a couple more orders and some seamstress work. It’s not enough to live off on its own, but it’s a big help. I finally have enough to rent a small place for Noah and me.
Except now, Dad has found out where we are, and God only knows what he wants. Mom told me stories of how Dad grew up with a violent father. Mom fell in love with a bird with a broken wing and was hoping her love would heal him.
My father’s dysfunctional family turned him into a dysfunctional dad. But that stops now. I won’t allow Noah to fall into that trap. Now that he has his feet on solid ground, I won’t let our father near Noah.
Noah doesn’t even know he came to see me at school. I don’t want him anywhere near my baby brother.
TWO
You’re Getting It Anyway
CHARLOTTE
The ding of the bell over the door chimes, and in struts my crush. He’s charming, funny, and sweet. They call him Wildcard because, as he once told me, you never know what he’s going to do. I hope I’m not drooling. I swear that man has an effect on me that I can’t explain. The way he walks with purpose, his short-cropped sandy-blond hair with a curl that always seems to land over his eye that makes him even sexier… He reminds me of dashing and daring James Dean. And when his clear blue eyes meet mine, my knees go weak, and I feel a warmth run through me. Since he joined the Pride, he’s been working out a lot. That once skinny kid, the guys talked about is now a muscular, well-built man.
But right now, Wildcard is stalking straight toward me, his face is set in serious mode, and my mind goes to Noah.
Did Dad find Noah? Panic ensues. I grip the salt and pepper shakers I’m holding, feeling my fingers cramp.
“Noah?” I say, my mouth going dry.
“He’s fine, baby. But I think it’s time you come clean on what the hell is going on with you.”
I blink once, then again. How can he possibly know? Besides being stunned, I’m getting angry. I don’t owe him an explanation. I’m not asking for anything. I straighten my spine, narrowing my gaze, and, leaning forward, I tell him just that.
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” I hiss. “Who do you think you are, coming in here and accusing me? I’m not asking for your help, and I don’t need it.”
I don’t know what reaction I expected, but I certainly didn’t think I’d get the one I got, which is to have his sensual mouth with those perfectly shaped lips surrounded by those whiskers form into a smile that turns into a magnanimous laugh. His head is thrown back and his eyes crinkle as his laughter finally dies down.
In a humorous tone, he replies, “You didn’t ask for help, but you’re getting it anyway. What you don’t get is that you’re mine. I take care of what’s mine.”
